


ACT III: Napoleon Solo? What a demented name???

by orphan_account



Series: The Foolhardy Affair [3]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015), The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fever, Hurt, Hurt Napoleon, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 09:11:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21241676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Napoleon has been compromised ! Ah yes, the great Napoleon Solo has been mercilessly been hurt by an unknown force. The CIA might loose the chase between them and their enemies if Napoleon is captured, but is he really??





	ACT III: Napoleon Solo? What a demented name???

**Author's Note:**

> It's part three, please show some love to this bby boi called Napoleon, he is sweet and soft 😊. Anyway! I love this story and i hope you all would love it too oxoxoxo :)) Give love (and maybe some kudos and comments to the sad author :') she has a English test coming up ) 
> 
> I tried to make it cool and sixties-y by setting it in india, new locations we stan!

Whilst he was sleeping, he felt like his leg had been moved off the seat next to him, but whoever had done that hadn't done that roughly, but rather gently and softly. He'd heard a seatbelt click and he'd heard the engines growling. He'd heard pages flipping next to him and someone constantly fidgeting next to him. He feared the worst, perhaps he'd been taken off the plane and into a hospital, perhaps he'd been taken to a place significantly worse, he was scared to open his eyes, worrying that whatever he'd open them to, would be horrifying. 

But the last straw was when someone switched a light on next to him, the brightness changed the atmosphere around him and his eyes snapped awake. He could still hear the engines growling next to him and could feel the plane slightly vibrating. He was resting his head against… a… someone… and he had a blanket slightly spread over him. His head was throbbing and as he opened his eyes wider to study the person, the plane shook dangerously. Napoleon knew it was turbulence, but he was too tired to even take notice of the steady hand that stopped him from falling, instead, he just was thankful for his seatbelt, keeping him on his seat. 

Sucking in a deep breath, he continued to try and see who he was leaning against. Whoever this person was, they had a massive Greek to English dictionary on his table. It looked ancient but well-read, with lots of folded corners and tattered pages. It was rather fat like it had lots of notes slid into it, Napoleon rolled his eyes, some nerd he was stuck with. 

He looked up and saw the person's face was covered by a curtain of shoulder-length black hair that hung loose and was somewhat on Napoleon's forehead. He raised his head over the shoulder and the head turned around, the long, lightly rose-scented black hair whipped in his face, and two wide brown eyes stared back at him, they were framed with long, curling lashes and large, thick-rimmed round glasses. They blinked, perhaps in surprise, perhaps in disgust, and the person pulled up her glasses and propped them on her head. She put her hands on his temples and slowly lifted his head up, Napoleon couldn't help but not resist, he was so tired and his forehead was still burning with pain.

"You are awake now...no?" The voice said, in a slightly accented English, it was soft, and carefully spoken. 

"Yes...Yeah, I guess," Napoleon he said, the person in front of him was a girl, definitely. With tanned, golden skin and wearing a delicately embroidered skirt with a turtleneck pulled over. Her black hair was messy but held down firmly with a glittery headband.

She looked at him for a couple of seconds and then started to turn back to her book, Napoleon quickly realised that she wasn't much of a speaker. He tugged at her hand, "Uhm, how long was I...uh... ?" He asked, pointing to his head, hoping that he hadn't been out for too long. The girl in front of him softly laughed, "aiiyo," she paused a little as if trying to work out what to say next in her mind, "we are still two hours away from Bombay."

"I hope it wouldn't seem to abrupt to ask you your name?" Napoleon grinned, trying to work his charm, but the girl simply looked at him quizzically and then questioned back, 

"my name?". 

Napoleon nodded and raised his eyebrows, "Yes, your name."

"My name is Ananya, Ananya Manhodhkar." She said, hoping that may be enough for an answer.

"And ...uh…" Napoleon was at a loss for words as he pointed towards the massive Greek to English dictionary and the well-thumbed book of Ancient Myths.

"Oh yes, I study at the University of Cairo," she said, with a bored tone to her voice, like she'd said that over and over again.

"I study the Ancient World." She smiled, to Napoleon, she did look like a clever girl with big glasses and a book at hand. Napoleon leaned back into his own seat, "And I'm…" he trailed off, what would he tell her? Napoleon Solo? She'd think he was demented, giving out a fake name, well then, he had to be Jack Devney for this girl too, not that she’d actually care. 

“I’m Jack Devney.” 

The girl next to him nodded and then went back to her heavily annotated book, it looked like she was trying her best to study for a test, the tattered pages showed that the book was probably second hand, so did the different handwriting styles on the sides of the pages. Napoleon took another deep breath and fumbled with his seatbelt, but he still couldn’t feel his hands. The girl next to him noticed that and keeping half her focus on her book, flicked open the belt and curled back into her book. Napoleon gave a little defeated smile, well there was not much to talk about here. He pulled himself up and walked down the aisle, still a little unsteady on his feet and wandered off around the airplane.

Back in 27B, Ananya was still there, flicking away when she saw the flight attendant walking around with a notepad in her hand, she was the redheaded one, and a really pretty one for that. Behind her, in the aisle, was the man who was sitting next to her, patiently waiting to get to his seat. He still looked obviously rather nauseous, and probably felt the same, and Ananya wondered how she’d let him walk off on his own. She didn’t know him, but still, nobody should be forced to walk around feeling like they wanted to throw up.

When the attendant reached her, she looked over her book and smiled, 

“And uh, what would you like ma’am” the redhead politely asked, 

“A cola, please?” She asked, after rehearsing that at least thrice in her head. When the attendant was about to leave, Ananya called out quietly, “and uh… can I have a...uhm... scotch, for the Uhm,” She paused, what was he to her? Seatmate? Brother? Lover? “My uh, partner?” She finished the sentence off as a question, but the flight attendant didn’t notice, probably because of the accent. She simply smiled and nodded, behind her Napoleon saw as she brought out a cola and a scotch. 

“You don’t drink?” He said, as he returned to his seat, trying to start a conversation, trying to be charming. He didn’t like the silence, “I mean, really cola? What are you trying to do? Drinking that has no class, none at all.” he said, his words now getting more muddled up and garbled.

“You look like you will throw up.” She growled back, her accent heavy this time, either angry or concerned, Napoleon couldn’t tell. So no answer; he thought to himself, trying to avoid her dark eyes, searching his face. Without a warning, she brought the back of her hand on his head, Napoleon tried to bat it away but it was too abrupt and Napoleon’s hand-eye coordination wasn’t quite on point today. 

“You have a fever.” She said, accent lighter and (Napoleon guessed) probably less angrier and more concerned. 

“How d’ya know that?” he said, slightly slurring his words together, but either she hadn’t heard, or she didn’t want to. He grabbed the scotch and quickly gulped it, the bitterness slowly getting worse in his mouth. He could feel the edges of his vision slowly blackening, but he kept a steady grip on the cup, he turned away from his seat partner and stared out of the window outside. He could soon feel his cup and his consciousness slipping away, and he was almost sure that the cup would clatter and crash onto the ground.

**Author's Note:**

> Ooh! I hope you enjoyed!! Next part coming out soon, mostly because i was on a fIne rOll. Smhi should actually study for my test but nay!


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